


You want me to tell you?

by Imiaslavie



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Edward isn't prepared, M/M, Post-Canon, Roy is a sly fox, sort of flirting and sort of confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imiaslavie/pseuds/Imiaslavie
Summary: Winry Rockbell is a treasure, Roy decides, for bringing up the topic with Ed. Roy couldn’t have done it smoother.





	You want me to tell you?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tierfal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierfal/gifts).



Roy has come to two conclusions. First, Riza has a soft spot for Edward Elric. Second, Riza doesn’t have an iota of compassion for Roy himself.

That’s why Edward is here, in his office, perching on the edge of the tabletop, hands behind him to keep his balance and legs stretched out in front of him.

This doesn’t distract Roy at all. At. All.

He keeps writing a report, trying to tone out Ed as much as he can. All his attempts fail because A – Ed talks too loud and B – damn, Roy loves listening to him talk. Especially when he talks about the new things he found out about alchemy with Al.

Roy looks at papers in front of him with disdain. He probably could say ‘fuck it’ and chat with Ed instead. If this report was urgent, Hawkeye wouldn’t let Ed disturb him anyway. Still… Urgent or not, it must be finished, or he would face his Lieutenant‘s wrath.

But _damn_ it’s hard to concentrate with Ed around, his voice loud and clear, and… oh, yes. Ed’s leather pants squeak gently each time Ed moves his thighs.

Well. Roy Mustang deserves a medal for self-control.

“-sex-”

Roy flinches; his pen leaves an ugly blotch of ink on the paper. He looks at Ed.

“What?”

Ed pauses, looks back at him.

“You didn’t hear a word I was sayin’, right?”

“Well…”

“You only noticed me when I said ‘sex’. You fucking perv.”

Got it in one, Roy muses and puts on his best mask of innocence.

Ed scrutinizes him with a gaze for a couple of moments and sighs.

“I was talking about the shit Winry said. For some reason, which is completely incomprehensible to me, she and Al started talking about dating and— stuff. And she said, quote, ‘Ed here is a walking sex on a stick, I can’t believe he is not drowning in suitors’. First of all, who uses the word ‘suitor’? Second, what the everloving fuck? Which part of me is sexy? Or, I dunno, hot or attractive or whatever.”

Winry Rockbell is a treasure, Roy decides, for bringing up the topic with Ed. Roy couldn’t have done it smoother.

“You want me to tell you?” Roy asks, picking up the pen. Nonchalance, his brain supplies, is a good strategy.

“Tell me what?”

“Which parts of you are attractive.” Actually, Roy would much more prefer to talk about the depths of Ed’s soul, the strength of his heart, how he is a perfect human being… Talking about his body like it is more important seems shallow. But if Ed wants to hear about the physical qualities of him, Roy is ready to provide.

Roy starts writing, choosing words carefully and making perfect curves for each Y and S and not forgetting to add small dots for each I.

He waits.

“Sure,” Ed finally says. “Shoot”.

There are things Roy has been wanting to say for months. No language can quite grasp the love and admiration he feels for Edward Elric. But he is ready to try.

“The first thing people notice,” Roy says, scribbling a date in the corner of a paper sheet, “is your eyes. They are a magnet, a trap, a sea people are willingly trying to drown in. Although it’s not a sea, is it? It’s honey, it’s warmth, it’s each emotion you feel naked in your gaze. They wish you looked at them like they matter, like they are your treasure. I bet you can stop a complete stranger in his tracks, right in the middle of the street, just by looking in their eyes. They’d stop and would look your way, wishing you’d turn around and look at them once more.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath at Roy’s left.

He keeps writing.

He keeps baring his soul.

“And if your eyes are honey, your hair is a sun. It shines like gold at day, hypnotizing, making everyone want to touch it, to slide fingers through thick soft strands, brush them away and hide behind your ears to bare your face. They wish to be there for you in the morning to braid them and in the evening to brush them before you go to sleep.” Roy takes a deep breath and continues. “Also people would like your voice. Maybe not when you’re shouting. When you talk about your brother, your voice wavers with love and admiration; when you talk about new things you’ve learned about alchemy, it’s with fervour; when you are angry, it’s deep and throaty. One would be curious how you sound in throes of passion, hoarse and honest, whether you scream or whimper or try to withhold the sounds of your pleasure by keeping your mouth – your pretty mouth with lips the colour of cowberries – shut. And—”

“Roy.”

It’s a plea disguised as his name, shattered and airy. Roy lifts his head and looks at Ed.

Ed's chest falls and rises in quick uneven rhythm. Palms clench the edge of the tabletop. His face is flushed and his gaze is feverish and there is something unreadable in his eyes.

Edward Elric is perfect. Roy is surprised his heart doesn’t stop right that moment. There’s so much more Roy wants to say, numerous things, about Ed’s arms, his thighs, even his height… But he knows that for Ed – who didn’t expect such words at all – it was already too much, and Roy needs to wrap it up quickly, on a different note.

“And,” he adds softly, letting a smile stretch his lips, “if they’re lucky, they’ll find out what a delight you are when you are blushing. That is if they’re privileged with your presence in a first place. Because that what it is. A privilege. Seeing you, talking to you, giving you everything and hoping to brighten your day just as you undeniably brighten theirs… just by being you.” Roy’s hand itches to touch Ed’s. But he can’t. Too early. He reminds himself that it’s not a _never_ , it’s a _not now_ , and his head clears a little. “At least that’s what I’ve heard. Whoever they may be. It could be anyone. I wouldn’t know.” He coughs.

A silence falls between them, the only sounds are Ed’s breathing – too fast and shallow – and Roy’s breathing – which is too measured because he is trying very hard not to show that he is screaming on the inside. He just keeps writing his report. He writes, and writes, and writes, and—

“If you,” Ed says, “happen to meet those… someone. I have some things I want to say to them.”

Roy’s pen stops for a second, leaving another blotch of ink on the paper. His Lieutenant surely would be furious to see such an untidy report.

“I want to tell them,” Ed continues, “that even if I don’t understand that sort of… dithyrambs they have in their crazy heads, I… I can’t say that I’m… unaffected. Or uninterested. In fact, I’m rather… Yes. So. Whoever they are… I want to discuss their opinions on me further. Privately.”

There’s a cloud of something hot rising from Roy’s stomach to his chest and up his throat. He is afraid that it may come out of his mouth as an incoherent wild scream of happiness, so he swallows a couple of times.

Roy Mustang was sure this morning that there’s no way he could love Edward Elric more.

Roy Mustang has just been proved wrong.

Because Ed has _listened_ and he has _heard_ and _understood_ and he _agrees_. And he is open-minded and he is sly and his face is blank but his eyes are full of humour and fire.

Edward straightens himself, fixes his jacket’s collar and makes a route for the door. Roy watches the way his thick ponytail sways with each Ed’s step like a pendulum. It’s just as hypnotizing.

His hand on the door’s handle, Ed turns around.

“So, I’d say you find them and tell them I’ll wait for them today at that little bar across my house, around nine. And if they, perchance, will find themselves buried under too much paperwork, I’ll use my unbearably significant ex-State Alchemist influence to deal with their, uh, boss.”

“I’ll be sure to relay your words,” Roy says in an absolutely professional tone.

Ed nods with the same sort of professionality and leaves.

When the door’s lock clicks, Roy’s hand flies up to his mouth to muffle his laughter and his lips that are stretched in the widest and certainly most stupid smile that has ever visited his face.

Roy swallows his laughter, takes a deep breath. He looks down at his report, grabs a new piece of paper and starts copying it with a steady hand, making sure not to make any mistakes.

He can’t be late for his date because of the work, can he?

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I can't not gift this to Tierfal, because she was the one to inspire me and influence me to write this, and I feel like I unintentionally transferred the way she sees Roy's feelings for Ed into my work. I always immerse in that worshipping that Roy does in her stories, I've never ever seen that depth of feelings before coming from any character, and I don't know how I have lived before knowing of it.
> 
> Tierfal, I thank you again for brightening my life <3


End file.
